


Some Things Are Meant To Be

by CCNilesBabcock



Category: The Nanny
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 18:24:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7856224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCNilesBabcock/pseuds/CCNilesBabcock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After C.C. comes back from her stay at "The Place", she decides to quit her job as a Broadway producer in order to heal, leaving a stunned Niles behind. She travels abroad to try and forget what had once been her life, but will she be able to do it? And will Niles be able to cope with her absence? Or fate has something else planned for our favourite couple? Read and find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Prologue** _

_**First Day Of My Life** _

"Are you ready to go, Miss Babcock?" the young nurse asked from her hospital room's door. The girl had attended to C.C. during both of her visits to the clinic, and was one of the few members of the staff who C.C. had come to trust – apart from Dr. Bort, obviously. The girl had kept her company on many of her worst days, and even if C.C.'s first impression of her was a bad one (She was far too cheerful for the blonde's taste, and she bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain Nanny), she had come to genuinely like her. Even though she had tried, she hadn't been able to remember her name –it was something like Hannah or Haylie, she didn't know for sure. But the nurse had never seemed to be bothered by this; as a matter of fact she had told the producer she found it quite funny. "Miss Babcock, are you listening?"

C.C. hadn't turned around since the nurse had gotten into the room, for she was focused on staring outside her window. The producer's gaze was fixed on a mockingbird sitting on a nearby tree branch – the bird had recently hatched a few eggs, and only yesterday C.C. had seen the little hatchlings emerging from them. The bird was feeding them, and for some reason C.C. found the sight of it interesting. Well, if she was being honest, during her inpatient time she had learnt to amuse herself with little, and nature was one of the few things in which she got lost easily. The hospital had enormous gardens, so the blonde had made a habit of going out for a walk every morning after she woke up.

Her mind was currently jumbled with thoughts. The dreaded day of her discharge had come once again and – unlike the first time she was at the clinic – she didn't want to go back. She wasn't going back, really... not after her last conversation with Bort. But still, the fear of slipping back into her old habits once she was out of the clinic was there, lurking in the back of her mind.

In retrospective, C.C. now realised that she had been discharged far too soon the first time she was there, and the proof of this was her rushing back to the clinic after spending only one day at the Sheffield mansion. This time, however, she believed it was time for her to go back, only not to her old life. Her second stay at the hospital had been … _enlightening_? Yes, that's the word that popped in her mind: enlightening. She remembered she had spent the first days after her second admittance to the clinic walking around the premises, trying to understand what had caused her to relapse – and she had always gotten to the same conclusion: The Sheffield household.

She discussed this thought with Bort, and her therapist had agreed with her reasoning; the Sheffield mansion was not the ideal place for her to go back while she was in recovery. There she was exposed to a number of stressing situations, including Niles' incessant pranks and catty comments, and Maxwell and Nanny Fine's impending nuptials. C.C. had come to the conclusion that she needed to distance herself from them – at least for some time, in order to heal.

She had to deal with an inner turmoil that just couldn't be solved if she went back to her old surroundings, and she had yet to understand many things about herself and about the causes that had led to her breakdown. Bort had said that C.C. had finally understood how pointless pining after Maxwell had been, and after losing him and her work, she had been left with nothing. She was nothing. And she was right…

C.C. had realised her life had been defined by trying to become Mrs. Sheffield, and being the driving force behind the company; when she had been stripped of all of that, she had lost herself, she had lost her own identity. She had been almost ethereal, devoid of content or purpose… That's enough to drive anyone over the edge.

It took her long, but she had made a decision, and she was getting as far away as possible from the Sheffield's and from Niles. Speaking of the butler, he had been one of the recurrent topics of conversation with her psychiatrist; Bort had pointed out C.C. spent an awful lot of time talking about someone she supposedly hated, and had suggested that – perhaps – there was more than met the eye between them. C.C. had been reluctant to accept the idea at the beginning, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Niles was one of the longest and most stable relationships C.C. had in her life, and even if they fought like cat and dog, she had considered they were friends (in their own twisted way). Now, the problem was that things between them had changed since the infamous kiss in the den. Although it had been alcohol-fuelled, passion and an underlying sexual tension had their part in it. After many long and tiring sessions with her therapist, the producer had begrudgingly accepted she was attracted to Niles, but she was still reluctant to admit it was more than physical desire.

Bort had suggested she was afraid – afraid of what that admission entailed. The middle aged psychiatrist had received an unimpressed look as an answer, but Bort knew she had struck a nerve. She could read C.C. like a book, and no matter how hard the producer tried to deny it, she was certain C.C. harboured feelings for him. But she understood her reluctance; Niles had hurt her, after all.

Bort had been treating C.C. for over twenty years now, and if there was one thing her patient failed to do, it was opening up to others. The producer didn't have a good childhood, and her crude personality was a consequence of it. Since a young age she had strived to please others, and masked her true feelings behind a cold demeanour, which morphed into an ornery one as years went past. Her father had been absent most of her life, and her mother had never been a supportive parental figure either – quite the opposite in fact.

All this had led to the producer feeling like she didn't belong anywhere and bottle up her emotions, so – considering she also lacked an emotional support system – it was no wonder she had important emotional issues, or that she had recurred to alcohol and prescription drugs as unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Now, going back to the butler, she had noticed her patient and Niles had started getting closer almost a year ago. They had bonded gradually, and little by little the animosity between them had toned down, whilst their banter became almost good natured. They joked with each other, and Bort had seen C.C. visibly happier than ever before. However, everything came to an abrupt end when the butler pranked her after his heart attack; Niles had hurt her a lot with that underhanded trick and, as a consequence, the closeness they had been sharing had instantly disappeared. C.C. had pushed him away, and had recurred to ingesting outrageous amounts of alcohol to numb the pain. Topping insult to injury, his pranks became progressively crueller with time, and eventually, the combined pressure of his quips and the wedding, had resulted in C.C. crumbling down.

So, after being in a treatment centre for five months, C.C. had finally taken a hard decision: she had to go away. The producer had decided to travel abroad, and took her time to carefully choose a destination – which she had talked over with Bort and had received her approval.

But one thing was talking about going away, and another one was actually doing it…

"Miss Babcock, are you alright?" the nurse's voice brought C.C. out of her reverie, and she finally turned to face her.

"Yes, I am alright… uh…."

"Haylie," the girl offered, a gentle smile playing across her lips.

"Haylie," C.C. repeated, as though it was the first time she had heard that name. "That's right. And yes, I am ready to go," the producer crossed the room in confident strides, her only suitcase clutched in her left hand.

"Then follow me, you need to complete some forms before you are discharged and we'll provide you with all the meds that you were prescribed. The cab you called is already waiting for you outside, so I suggest we hurry up," Hailey informed the producer as she headed outside the room, C.C. following her closely.

Both women walked down the long hospital corridor in silence, eventually reaching the hospital's vestibule. There was a wide circular front desk in the middle of it, and C.C. spotted the familiar discharge papers laying on top it. Hailey handed her a pen and the producer then scribbled her signature on the marked places before returning both the forms and the pen . Hailey then handed her a little bag which contained her numerous meds, and walked her to the door.

C.C. stood in the doorframe for a long time, trying to delay her departure for as long as possible. The fears assaulting her were too many, and her courage was too little. What if she went back inside? Perhaps staying at the clinic for another month or so…?

"You have to go, Miss Babcock. You are ready," Hailey spoke softly and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you are scared, but it's time to face the music."

"I am not scared," the blonde producer hissed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Then why are you still standing here?"

C.C. couldn't answer the question, so she just bit her lower lip and looked down at the floor. Damned child, she thought, why was she able to see through her? C.C. eventually straightened her posture, glanced down at Haylie and flashed a small smile at her. "Touché. I guess sometimes leaving is hard."

"Change can be scary, but sometimes it's necessary. You will be ok, Miss Babcock, have faith in you! You told me Dr. Bort said you've made more progress during these past months than during all the last five years combined!" Haylie nudged her in the ribs, teasingly.

C.C. gave a soft nod, and began walking towards the cab alongside her nurse. "I know, I know," she mustered.

Haylie helped her put her suitcase on the trunk and politely opened the door for her. Just before the blonde producer climbed onto the backseat of the car, she turned to her nurse and gave her a quick hug. Haylie knew just how much it meant, coming from her.

"Good luck, Miss Babcock, and goodbye too."

"Goodbye, Haylie."

The two women smiled at each other, and finally C.C. got into the cab. As the car began its way back to the city, the producer observed the outline of the hospital in the distance. It became progressively smaller, until she couldn't see it anymore. She released a long sigh while she made herself comfortable in the backseat –she was finally going back, and she could only hope things worked out this time.


	2. Walking Away

_**Chapter 2** _

_**Walking Away** _

Maxwell Sheffield was stressed. The last months of his life had been a whirlwind of events: he was getting married, he had almost been disinherited, and his business associate had left for an undetermined period of time. The first weeks after C.C. had gone away had been bearable, and he had managed to run the company fairly well without her; but as time had gone by, he had found the task to be increasingly hard. Until then he hadn't realised just how much work C.C. did, and without her to schmooze backers, or to read through the extensive paperwork and scripts, Maxwell felt like he was about to collapse.

In short – he had spent his days sitting in his office, working until unholy hours of the morning. He was currently reading through the tenth horrendous script of the day, a pained grimace etched across his features. He had his head resting on his hand, and his brows were knitted in a deep furrow.

"Excuse me, sir," Niles' dry voice said from the office door, "I will be gone to attend to some errands, and I'll be back in half an hour. I'll start preparing lunch as soon as I return."

"That's fine Niles, thank you," Maxwell didn't even look up from the script, and waved a dismissive hand at his butler. Ever since C.C. had gone to the sanatorium, his childhood friend had been more aloof than usual. He was constantly sad, and not even sparing with C.C.'s replacement had cheered him up. He was doing a wonderful job, as usual, but without him snooping around or throwing playful insults at C.C., the house seemed devoid of its characteristic spark of life. The house was too silent, and it unnerved Maxwell to no end.

He glanced up at the door and observed Niles walking away crestfallen, and sighed. When was he going to admit that he missed the blonde woman? Even he could see that Niles needed C.C. to get by! The only thought that consoled him was that between today and tomorrow, C.C. would be back, and all of his problems would be solved. He wanted to focus on his wedding, not on his work, but without her to help him out at the office, work was the only thing he could think of.

The producer stretched on his chair, and threw the poor excuse of a script to the nearest trash bin. What was the author thinking when he wrote it? Was he high or what? Shaking his head, Maxwell rose to his feet, and headed to the kitchen to get a snack – yes, a good snack and a cup of tea would surely soothe his nerves.

Just as he was about to push the kitchen's swinging door open, the doorbell rang. For a second he expected to hear Niles' footsteps going to the entrance, but – as Maxwell remembered Niles had gone out – he turned to the living room and languidly walked to the door. The moment he saw who was standing behind it, though, he felt his heart leaping into his mouth; there, clad in one of her usual smart business suits, stood none other than his business partner. Not wanting to waste another second, the Englishman sprung to the door and opened it, beaming.

"C.C.! Welcome back!" he gave her a hug as a greeting, and then allowed her to step inside the mansion. "You have no idea how much I've needed you around the office. And of course we've missed you-"

"Maxwell can I have a word with you?" she cut him off in her usual no-nonsense tone.

For a second, Maxwell could only stare at her, a glint of consternation shinning in his eyes. Now that he truly looked at her, he noticed she seemed somewhat… different? Not exactly physically speaking, but there was something definitely different about her. The way she was looking at him perhaps…? There was something in her whole demeanour that had shifted, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. Her body language was the same as always: she stood tall, head high, arms folded across her chest, and had a stern expression plastered to her face. For the unsuspecting eye, she looked just as she had before going to the sanatorium, but knowing her like he did, Maxwell could tell she had changed.

"Sure thing, C.C., let's head to the office so we can talk privately," he offered, his voice almost sounding shy.

C.C. gave a sharp nod and led the way to the study, where she sat on her usual place on the green leather sofa. Out of habit, C.C. crossed her legs while she waited for Maxwell to take his own place behind the desk. Once in his seat, the British producer rested his elbows on the desk, and hesitantly spoke. "What's the matter, C.C.?"

This was it, she thought. She squared her shoulders and forced herself to fix her gaze on him. Taking a shuddering breath, she opened her mouth and spoke in an almost inaudible whisper. "I quit."

Maxwell had to do a double take. What had she just said?!

An uncomfortable silence swelled inside the room, and in his eyes she saw a flash of shock, followed by utter disconcert. Maxwell could only stare at his business partner, unable to formulate even the simplest of questions. Inside his mind an avalanche of doubts was assaulting him, but he couldn't voice them…

"Wh-what did you just say?" he eventually choked out.

C.C. looked down at the floor and repeated, "I said I quit."

"B-but why? W-what happened?" Maxwell stammered, leaning back against his chair.

"Maxwell, I'd rather keep my motives private."

"To hell with that!" Maxwell snapped, ramming his hand against the desk. "You've been gone for almost five months, I'm crumbling down under the weight of the company, and you suddenly want to quit?! I think that as your business associate and friend, I deserve an explanation."

"Maxwell… you wouldn't understand, it has to do with… I… I…" C.C. covered her face with her hands and heaved a sigh. How was she going to explain this to him? She didn't want the Englishman to think she was crazy or unstable, and apart from that, she also felt uncomfortable talking about her mental health with him of all people.

"Try me," he deadpanned, anger still straining his voice.

"Look, Maxwell, after my second stay at the…" C.C. had to gulp down a lump in her throat. She still wasn't able to say it aloud, she still was afraid to acknowledge she had needed help. "…The Place, I've reached to some conclusions."

"I still don't see how one of those conclusions could be quitting."

C.C. was craving a strong drink, and her anxiety levels were through the roof by now. Yes, she definitely needed to take her distance, but it seemed her business partner wasn't going to let her off the hook without a proper explanation. He couldn't blame him, though. She had worked on that company for almost twenty years, and now she wanted to leave? But still, she was struggling to find the words to voice her motives. The blonde rubbed her temples, trying to nurse her intense headache. "I am leaving because it's the best for my recovery. Maxwell, I am battling… I am recovering from a mental breakdown, and both my therapist and I agree that going back to the place where it happened won't do me any good. Here I am exposed to too many stressful situations… And I can't deal with anything right now."

C.C. wasn't looking at Max, but had she been doing so, she'd have discovered the saddened expression on his face. He knew, and he understood. Even if he was thoughtless and oblivious, he had learnt a thing or two about his business associate, and one of them was that she had a delicate emotional health. Over the years he had seen C.C. become a highly-functioning alcoholic, and jump from one failed relationship to another; the woman had never allowed anyone to get through her thick skin, and had masked her sufferings behind her brassy demeanour. In hindsight, it had been a matter of time for her to fall down the abyss. Although he knew it was not his fault, Maxwell couldn't help but to feel a bit guilty for her breakdown – he was her friend, probably one of the few she had, and he had done nothing to help her.

Maxwell stood from his chair and sat back down next to C.C.. He draped an arm around her shoulders, and pulled her to him. The blonde rested her head on his shoulder, and pressed her eyes shut, letting her friend comfort her.

"C.C., I do understand," he broke the silence, his voice soft and soothing. "Although I've never been through a mental breakdown, I do understand the need to heal. You see, when Sarah died I went through a long mourning period, and there were times when I wished I could just run away and leave everything behind. But I couldn't do that, I have children that depend on me; luckily both you and Niles – and then Fran – helped me go on. You ran the company by yourself for over a year, and I'll always be grateful for that. So if you need some time to settle your mind and recover, then I support you. Although I don't understand how leaving us behind will help you, I won't question your decision nor try to convince you otherwise."

Well, that was a curveball, C.C. thought to herself. She had never imagined that Maxwell of all people would be so understanding. She had imagined he'd be furious when she'd told him she was quitting, or that he'd try to convince her to stay… But the black haired man had surprised her, and for the first time in almost twenty years, she actually felt he had paid attention to her. She was thankful for him respecting her privacy and not asking for reasons she couldn't yet give, it was nice to know he supported her, and in a way, it made things easier.

"Where are you going?" he asked, bringing her out of her thoughts.

C.C. shifted uncomfortably in her seat, and looked away. She fiddled with the end of her sleeve while she searched for the right words to say. He had been extremely understanding, but she didn't want him to know where she was going – she didn't want anyone to know, really. She simply needed to disappear. "Maxwell, don't take this in the wrong way, but I-"

"You prefer to keep it to yourself?" he gently cut her off, and received a faint nod as an answer. "Does anyone else apart from you know where you are going?"

"My therapist, and I plan on telling my father tonight, before I leave," she answered quietly.

Maxwell's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. The plane leaves at 9:00 am, so I'll leave my penthouse around 6:30 am."

"Oh, I see..."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence once again. There was nothing left to say, really, and both of them knew it. The pair of producers stood up, and Maxwell leaned over to hug C.C.; contrary to what her old self would have done, she didn't linger for long, for she didn't want to delay her departure any longer.

"I guess this is goodbye, C.C.. Would you like me to call the children and Fran so they can say their farewells, too?"

"No, Maxwell, I am in no condition to face any more farewells. Tell them I said goodbye," C.C. attempted to smile and then turned to the door. She didn't want to say goodbye, saying so to Maxwell had been hard enough as it was.

"And what about Niles?"

The blonde stopped dead in her tracks, her whole body tensed. She hadn't been expecting that question, nor did she have a proper answer to it. "What about Rubbermaid?" she spoke in a brittle.

"C.C., are you seriously going away without saying anything to him? You two had your ups and downs, but you've known him for fifteen years, and I dare say you care for each other."

C.C. didn't turn to face Maxwell, for her eyes were already shinning with unshed tears. "That's exactly why I can't say goodbye to him," she said over her shoulder before opening the door and breezing out of the office, leaving a pensive Maxwell behind.

Unbeknownst to them, someone had been listening to their conversation through the intercom. Niles stood rooted to the spot, with his finger still on the intercom button and her words ringing inside his mind.


	3. Pack It Up

**_Chapter 3_ **

**_Pack It Up_ **

Ever since Niles met C.C. Babcock, he knew he had an almost unnatural fascination with her. The day she had first stepped a foot inside the mansion, tall and proud, he had felt such a strong distaste for the woman that he had made it his personal mission to unnerve her. It had started as a game, and she had seemed to like it, too, for she had given as much as she took. Usually it was he who won their battle of wits, but he had always admired her endurance.

As years had gone by, the initial distaste had morphed into attraction – he hadn't been able to stop ogling her whenever she wasn't looking, and he had often found himself fantasizing about a certain blonde hellion. She had captivated him, there was no other way to describe it; she was an exasperating, stuck up beauty, and their sparing had always brought a smile to his lips. Their bantering had soon become the highlight of his day, and attraction had turned into lust.

They were constantly orbiting each other and they had bonded through their fights. They had been almost amiable, and a nice distraction during their work hours. He remembered Sarah Sheffield used to joke they'd end up together eventually, an idea that had been quickly discarded by both of them. But deep down the idea hadn't repulsed him at all – in fact, he had found it quite appealing. But who was he kidding? He was in a lower station in life, was almost sixteen years her senior, and Babcock had made her view on dating domestics perfectly clear with the phrase _'Babcocks don't mingle with the help'._

Sarah's death had been a turning point in their lives – C.C. had closed up, and solely focused on running the company, while he had put his efforts in consoling the three Sheffield kids and his childhood friend. The two of them had had to deal with the aftermath of Sarah's death, and as a consequence they had drifted apart. There had been no time for bantering, there had been no time for witty insults or pranks, for they had had to try and fill the void Sarah's death had left behind. Neither of them had been able to grieve her, for they had had to be the pillars to sustain the remains of what had once been a happy family. Sarah's death had altered their dynamic beyond repair, and no matter how much he had wanted things to go back to the way they were before Mrs Sheffield's demise, it was obvious there was no turning back.

What Niles felt for the woman was not lust; it had morphed into a much stronger emotion. He had tried to deny it, to bury his feelings in the back of his mind, as though that would make them disappear – but they were always there, floating in the back of his mind.

When she started pining after Maxwell, something broke between them. Niles had been beyond furious; he hadn't been able to believe the woman was trying to take Sarah's place! It had outraged him, but it had also hurt him. He hadn't known why it hurt so much, but the thought of her marrying his childhood friend had been enough to make him want to go away – he'd be damned before living in the Sheffield mansion if C.C. became Mrs. Sheffield. The butler understood his anger, but why the hurt? She was his nemesis, for Christ's sake! It was then when Niles' pranks became much more aggressive, and the banter had escalated to new levels of cruelty. The moment she had acknowledged the change in the nature of his insults, she had begun insulting back with the same spite; it was not a game anymore, it was a war.

It was during this period of time when C.C. began to drink regularly. He had observed her slip into alcoholism little by little, and soon came the prescription drugs. She changed, she became colder, crueller… and it had made him desire her even more. And so, with time, they had gotten used to their new dynamic, for they had been too proud to put a stop to it.

Anger and sadness had enveloped the Sheffield mansion like an aura until Fran Fine had arrived, lighting everything around her. She had been the sun coming out after a long storm, and with her warmth she had slowly helped everyone out of their misery. The kids were happier than they had been in years, Maxwell had started interacting with the world again, Niles found a confidante and a friend, and even C.C. had softened a bit. The 'Fine effect' had also affected the nature of their banter, and soon it had turned playful again.

They had fun, they laughed, they fought like cat and dog once again, but everything was fine. It was then when Niles began to understand the nature of his feelings for her. Only after the kiss in the den had he been brave enough to admit to himself that he loved her. Niles had cursed himself for that – he had cursed his stupid heart. Why did he have to fall in love with her of all people? He was hopeless, for he knew she'd never even consider him.

_And Yet…_

After the kiss everything had changed once again. He had noticed their banter was almost flirtatious, and little by little they had gotten closer. They danced, had gone out on one or two dates, they had enjoyed spending time together – it was just like the old times.

But then came his heart attack – and his bloody prank. He still didn't quite know why he had done it, especially when the blonde was the reason why he had survived. He remembered that, shortly after she had stormed out of the room screaming and cursing in such a way she would have rivalled a sailor, Maxwell had told him C.C. had been the one who had called the paramedics, that she had stayed by his side, and that she had even cried when she thought he had died. His little prank had ruined all the progress in their relationship, and she hated his guts once again. But she had added a new ingredient to their tumultuous relationship: she had decided to ignore him, something she had never done before, and it pissed him off to no end.

His insults had always been a way to catch her attention, for he knew that if it weren't for his wit she wouldn't even have looked at him, after all he was just a servant… So her new attitude had awoken the aggressive Niles in him. Hence his banter and pranks becoming meaner than ever, and – if he was honest with himself – he had somewhat enjoyed seeing her crumbling down.

But he had never thought he'd break her! Not in a million years.

He remembered the panicked look in her eyes, how scared she had been when he took her to the sanatorium, and guilt had latched to his heart since the moment he had dropped her there. Niles felt ashamed of himself, ashamed of silently allowing her to slip into insanity – ashamed of being insensitive enough to reach the point of kicking her when she was down.

He was just not the same without her, and his only consolation was visiting her at the place; he had visited her every day, but as she had usually been doped up, she hadn't even acknowledged his presence. He remembered he'd talk to her ear, throw gentle zingers at her and sometimes, when his courage hadn't faltered, he he'd take her hand in his and caressed it with his thumb. Eventually, the producer had come back, but she was not the same. And yet again, he had let his stupidity screw things up when he pranked her the day she came back from the sanatorium. To his dismay, she had disappeared for another two months and – to make matters worse – she had told the hospital staff that she didn't want any visits.

But nothing could have prepared him for this. He could have never imagined there would come a day when C.C. Babcock decided to slip out of his life. Yet there he stood, in front of the intercom, his eyes wide as saucers, and a heavy feeling in his heart. The only thing he could think about was the question 'Why?' – Why was she leaving, why hadn't she said goodbye to him…? Why, why, why...

Niles could feel his heart beating wildly against his chest, his hitched breathing and the slight trembling of his body as he slowly staggered to the nearest chair and collapsed on it. The butler hid his face in his hands, trying to digest the news; what was he going to do now? Was he going to let her go? Well, he couldn't stop her, but he could at least try to reason with her, couldn't he? He quickly discarded the idea, though; he couldn't be so selfish to try to make her stay – not after his behaviour towards her these past months.

But he wanted to say goodbye, he wanted an explanation, and he was going to get it.

Niles jolted from the chair and took the car keys from the kitchen counter. If she was going to leave, then he'd at least say goodbye to her.

* * *

C.C. sat on her bed, carefully folding one of her many sweaters. There were piles of clothes around her, and just in front of her there were three half-full suitcases. There was soft music playing in the background, and C.C. was feeling in a better mood than when she had left the mansion. Her thoughts were revolving around what she was going to do once she had arrived to Buenos Aires, and considering they were in winter there, she had made a mental note to pack a generous amount of sweaters and scarves.

The idea to travel to Argentina had come to her one afternoon at the hospital. She had been sitting in one of the recreation rooms, reading a book, when a tango had started playing on the radio. She had been taught how to dance tango for her cotillion, and she was quite a good dancer, too, so the blonde had figured it would be nice to visit its birthplace. Besides, no one would think to look for her in a third world country (something she considered an advantage), and she was looking forward to practicing her Spanish – not to mention all the Soap Operas she'd be able to follow there.

After she had folded her last sweater, she carried the pile of clothes to one of the suitcases, carefully put them inside it and – once she was pleased with her work – she stretched her body and headed to the kitchen, anxious to have a glass of water.

There was a giddy sense of excitement coursing her body; she was actually looking forward to this trip – it had been years since anything had actually felt exciting, and it truly was a nice change of pace. She had spent most of her adult life working, making her way in the ruthless show business – but now, now she wanted (and deserved) to relax.

She absentmindedly gulped down her water, making a mental note of all the things she still had to pack. She was almost done packing her clothes, had already prepared her carry on and her necessaire; probably she only had to finish tidying her penthouse and checking that all her paperwork was in order before she left.

Once C.C. had quenched her thirst, she put the glass she had used in the dishwasher and headed back to her bedroom, enjoying the nostalgic sound of a tango that was coming from the radio in her room. Halfway to her bedroom, however, the producer was startled by the shrilling sound of the bell. C.C. frowned – she hadn't invited anyone, who could it be?

The blonde turned on her heels and went to the door, trying to smooth her clothes and fix her dishevelled hair. She figured it was her father, he had mentioned the possibility of coming by her penthouse in the evening.

However, her answer came seconds later, and it was miles away from what she had expected. When she looked through the peephole C.C. couldn't help but to groan loudly – what was he doing there?! Why on Earth Niles was knocking at her door? He was, frankly, the last person she wanted to see. The producer momentarily considered not answering the door, but there was something about the look in his eyes that told her to do it. He seemed nervous, and a part of her was curious to know what had brought him there.

"What do you want, Rubbermaid?" she barked from behind the door, still not opening it.

"Miss Babcock, please let me in, I need to talk to you."

"This is not a good time Hazel, tell me tomorrow at the mansion," C.C. knew it was a blatant lie, but she could live with it. If he entered the penthouse and saw her suitcases, he'd probably start asking questions she didn't want to answer.

"Miss Babcock, I know you are leaving, please open the door."

Only seconds after the words had left his mouth, the door was swung open by a visibly angry C.C.. How did he know? Had Maxwell told him?! Fantastic, now she was going to have to give explanations to Niles of all people. "Come in," she grumbled, allowing him to step inside her penthouse and slamming the door shut behind him.

They stood in front of the other for a long period of time, none of them daring to speak. He was nervous, and she could tell it – his hands were hidden in his pockets, he was rocking back and forth on his heels and he hadn't been able to look at her in the eye. As a matter of fact, he was so tense the air around him was charged, and C.C.'s scowl didn't help to soothe his nerves either.

"Well, you said you needed to speak to me, what is it?" she eventually broke the silence, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

He forced himself to look at her, and forgetting who they were and how their relationship had worked for the past fifteen years, he took one of her hands in his and asked "Why are you leaving?"

The contact of his skin on hers momentarily distracted C.C., but she quickly snapped out of it and yanked her hand away. "It's none of your damn business," she spat, opening the door once again, "Now leave."

"Please, Miss Babcock," Niles was trying the gentle approach; he was not ready to give up just yet. He needed to understand, she just couldn't leave him like that… "Please, I beg you-"

"I said get out!" she cut him off, her tone slightly raised.

"Babcock, don't be-"

"Are you deaf or what?! GET THE HELL OUT!"

That was it! That was the line that made him lose it. He kicked the door shut once again and rooted himself to the spot, arms crossed across his front. "No, I won't! You are leaving to God knows where without giving any explanations and I want to understand! What happened with you, Miss Babcock?"

"Why do you care? Why the sudden interest in my life? I don't owe you any explanations, nor do I intend to give them to you, Niles. Now please get out of my penthouse, I still have packing to do," she hissed, fighting the urge to have a drink with all her might.

"Then let me help you," He retorted, successfully putting her off balance. She was right, she didn't owe him explanations, and he had had quite some nerve to come demanding them. It had been wrong, he had no right… but he couldn't let her go without a proper goodbye, either.

"I said that- w-what?! Are you really offering to help me pack? Is there a punch line I should be waiting for?" she folded her arms over her chest, but Niles could see the encouraging glint of curiosity in her eyes.

"I am serious, Babcock. Let me help you with your luggage," Niles repeated, relaxing a little now that – at least – he had picked her attention.

"You've never been any help to me before," the blonde said, still unsure to let him stay.

"Take this as a farewell gift. Besides, I seriously doubt you've ever packed your own suitcases before, and I happen to be a professional in that area."

There was a moment of hesitation, but a smirk crossed her lips and gave away her answer. "Hm, I guess you are right. After all, who better than a maid to help me pack?"

Niles smiled back at her, happy to see she still had it in her. How was he going to miss it, though, the teasing, the zingers, the bantering… He couldn't believe it was coming to an end. "That's what I thought. Lead the way, Babs."

"Please Niles, ladies first!" she gestured toward her bedroom and awaited for him to walk to it, a sly smile gracing her features.

"I always knew you were the more masculine of the two of us," he teased back, and offered his arm to her.

"I wear the pants, baby," she purred, lacing their arms together.

With Niles' help, her luggage was ready in less than an hour, and not only she had a surprisingly good time with him, but he also offered to whip a light lunch for them – which he promptly did as soon as C.C. had given her approval. During the meal zingers and witticisms flew to and fro, and for a moment, they felt as though things had momentarily gone back to the way they had been a year before, when they could tease each other lightly and throw good natured zingers at each other. She had noticed the concealed sadness in his eyes, however, and it unsettled her. Why was he displaying such a sudden concern for her? Why was he sad for her departure? He had claimed to hate her, yet it looked like the prospect of a Babcock-free existence was painful for him.

"Well, it seems we are done here," he said as he sat the last of her luggage next to the door.

"Yup, it seems we are. So, uh… thank you for your help," the producer muttered lamely.

"It was my pleasure," came as his equally feeble reply.

Again, the pair fell silent, both knowing the imminent moment had come. He stuffed his hand in his pockets, and started to rock his heels back and forth once again.

"This is goodbye, isn't it?" Niles asked, his voice sounding almost… pained?

"So it seems," the producer bit her lower lip, and hesitantly opened the door. Why was this so hard? He was Niles, for God's sake! Her nemesis, a pain in her ass, the bane of her existence… yet saying goodbye to him was proving to be the hardest thing she'd ever done.

"Are you ever going to tell me why you are leaving? Am I going to see you again?" he blurted.

"Niles…" C.C. shut her eyes for a second, trying to contain the tears that were threatening to fall down. She couldn't allow herself to cry, not in front of him. Why was he asking these things? "Why are you pretending that you care? Why now?"

He really wanted to tell her his reasons, he really wanted to tell her he didn't want her to go… but he couldn't. There were unspoken rules between them, and one of them was not talking about what they felt – and most importantly – about what they felt for each other. The butler opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out of it.

"That's what I thought," she almost whispered, and gestured outside the door. "Well, thank you for your help and for a wonderful last meal, Butler Boy. Send my regards to Maxwell."

Niles stepped out of her penthouse, the heavy feeling in his heart having returned full force. It was real, she was leaving, and there was nothing left to say or nothing he could do to stop it. He began to walk down the corridor, but before he got to the elevator he turned to her and two pair of intense blue eyes found each other, electrifying the air.

"Was this my fault? Are you leaving because of me?" he finally asked. It was not what he wanted to ask, but it was a doubt that haunted him too.

She wanted to tell him – no, scratch that, she wanted to scream to him the reasons behind her departure, but she couldn't do it. The man in front of her was one of the biggest nuisances in her life, yet he was able to make her smile like no other person could. She wanted to kiss him, to punch him, to hate him, to _lov_ -

No. No. No! She wasn't going there, not when he was right in front of her. _'Close that door and throw away the key'_ , she chastised herself. She simply shrugged, and lowered her gaze. "Goodbye Niles."

That was the last thing she said before closing the door, not daring to look at him for another second. He lingered there for some minutes, but eventually he began his way back to the mansion, feeling older and lonelier than ever before.


	4. Hello, Buenos Aires!

_**Chapter 4** _

_**Hello, Buenos Aires!** _

"Ladies and gentlemen, we welcome you to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and hope you had a good fligh," the voice of the pilot resounded through the cabin, awaking C.C.. The flight had been long, and she had fallen asleep halfway to her destination. C.C. glanced at her clock –it read 20:30 -the flight had arrived about half an hour delayed.

She unbuckled her belt to stretch her tired body on her seat, and looked outside the window; the sky was dark -only freckled by the fewest stars, and there was a pale moon lighting the city with its silvery glow. Overall she had had a nice flight, and she had actually been able to put her last encounter with Niles in the back of her mind, but the trip had taken its toll on her now tired body.

The moment Niles had left her apartment, C.C. had felt a strong urge to cry. Why had he gone to her place? Why had he asked those questions? If she was being honest, deep down she knew why… She had put a stop to their games, and after almost twenty years of constant bickering, her sudden departure had surely been disconcerting for him. The blonde had never thought he would want an explanation, though – much less that he'd come to her door demanding one. But she had changed the rules of the game and surrendered, something neither of them had ever done before. Sure, there had been times when she had won their battle of wits, and some other times she hadn't, but she had never just surrendered... and in a way, slipping out of the Sheffields lives was surrendering.

The blonde was sure there had been something more behind his visit than just her giving up on their games, though, for she had seen a deep sadness in his eyes. For the brief moment she had thought he'd say something, she could have sworn he wanted to ask her to stay… It was as though he wasn't sad because her 'hobby' (as he had called her moments before their not-so-drunk kiss) was leaving, but because someone important to him was leaving. He wasn't upset because he wouldn't be able to zing her, no, he was upset because he'd probably never see her again.

But that was the nature of their relationship, it was full of 'what ifs', it was full of moments when both knew what they wanted to say, but couldn't bring themselves to do it. They were –in a way- two cowards, and she damned herself for that. He confused her, and she had frequently found herself pondering what he meant to her. She had a lot of thinking to do, and Niles was undoubtedly one of the topics she needed to analyse in depth.

The blonde was brought out of the reverie by a gentle stewardess, who informed her it was time to get off the plane. C.C. gave a polite nod, gathered the little carry-on she had brought with her, took out her passport and landing card, and scooted out of her seat and into the Jetway. Sticking to one side of the ramp, she walked briskly towards the immigration line, which thankfully was not long. After having presented her papers, she made a stop at baggage claim and subsequently went through customs.

She arrived to her hotel almost an hour later, exhausted and craving for a proper bed. C.C. was staying at the "Alvear palace hotel", one of the best hotels in the city. Her accommodation was located in one of Buenos Aires' most exclusive streets, Avenida Alvear, and it reeked of old-school class. Her room in itself was a sight to be seen: not only it was bigger than her own penthouse in New York, but it also had the décor of an authentic Parisian apartment. The decoration was enhanced by curtains and upholstery in French fabrics, crystal and bronze chandeliers, a magnificent oak flooring and it included works of art by the most prestigious Argentinean painters. He father had been right when he had suggested her to stay there, the place was truly a palace.

C.C. gave a generous tip to the young bell boy who had carried her luggage, walked to her room and finally collapsed on the fluffy bed. She sighed in relief the moment her body touched the mattress, and the blonde took a moment to relish on being able to rest her body on a comfortable surface after being seated for almost eleven hours. It was then when reality washed over her: She had really gone away, she had really left everything behind… Surprisingly, it didn't sadden her, quite the opposite in fact. For the first time in a year she felt at peace with herself, and her mind was clearer. They say sometimes, in order to solve your problems, you need to look at them from another angle; perhaps this little escapade was her attempt on doing so. Without the pressure of handling a business, feeling rejected by the man she had supposedly loved, or the confusing feelings Niles arose in her, she finally felt like she could breathe. It was nice being a nobody, for she was able to do what she wanted, and not what it was expected of her.

Once she had recovered some of her strength, the blonde sat back up and scrambled to the phone over her nightstand. She had promised her father she'd call him as soon as she had arrived to her hotel, and as he had been supportive of her decision to go away, she figured she owed him the call. His support had come as a surprise for C.C., for she had expected her father to disagree with her idea, but the older Babcock had given his approval without hesitation. His words still ringed in her ears: 'Kitten,' he had said in his tranquil voice 'If that's what you feel you need to do, then I support you. I am your father kiddo, and up to now you've never disappointed me.'

Hearing those words coming from him had meant the world to her, and had been the final push she had needed to leave. She was determined to re build her relationship with her father now that she was trying to change. Stewart had been absent most of her life, but since the time he had come to visit her when they went together to Barbara Streisand's concert, he had been trying to make up for the lost time. Unfortunately, it had been her who had decided to reject his attempts to bond with her. After her breakdown, however, Bort had suggested her to rely on him as a strong emotional support and –although she had been reluctant at first- she figured the idea wasn't that bad.

She dialled Stewart's number and -while she waited for him to answer- the blonde walked to the minibar in search of something to eat. She had to settle for a pack of pringles and a can of diet soda. No matter, she thought, there was always room service.

"Hello, Stewart Babcock speaking," her father's voice said from the other side of the line.

"Hello daddy, it's me."

"Hello Kitten! How was your flight? Are you at the hotel?"

"The flight was long, I'll definitely take you up on your offer of using the family jet when I decide to fly back to New York," she informed him, while tossing a chip inside her mouth. "Right now I'm in my hotel room, and holy crap, this place is fantastic! I feel like I'm living in Versailles, my bed even has a canopy."

"I told you it's wonderful! I stayed there when I visited Argentina during a business trip, and the hotel was up to my every expectation. Do you know what you are doing tomorrow?"

"Not really, I'll probably visit Recoleta cemetery, as you suggested. I'll ask for some brochures and maps at the reception."

"Sounds like an excellent plan. Listen, C.C., I know you said you didn't want to discuss this by phone but…" the elder man took a moment to breathe deeply before resuming the conversation, "… Maxwell's butler called me today. He told me Max wanted to know if you had arrived safely to your destination."

C.C. could feel her body tense. Niles had called her father? And since when did Maxwell remember to ask if she had arrived safely anywhere? "And what did you say?" her voice had hardened, and the relaxed conversation they had been having before, was quickly turning into an unnerving one.

"I told him I didn't know, and that I'd tell you that he had asked for you as soon as I spoke with you."

"Aha…. And what do you expect me to do with this information?"

"I don't know… call him? The Sheffields are concerned for you sweetie, one call is not going to hurt you C.C.. You don't have to give away your whereabouts if you don't want to."

C.C. used her free hand to rub her temple in a futile attempt to nurse a strong headache, product of a long and stressful day. "Fine, I'll call the Sheffields, but only this one time. I promised to talk to you regularly, not to them."

"And what if they start asking me for you?"

"Tell them the truth, only omit the information about my location. I highly doubt Maxwell will call you, though. He has an upcoming wedding to plan, so I am not one of his worries now," she spat. It still angered her, but she wasn't sure why… After her second stay at the place, C.C. had come to terms with the fact she didn't really love Maxwell, but she was still trying to figure out what he meant for her. Was he a friend? An obsession? A crush?

"Alright, Kitten. I should probably go to bed now, and so should you. After such a long journey you must be exhausted, and I have a business meeting tomorrow morning. Will you call me again tomorrow?"

"Yes dad, I'll give you a call tomorrow night. Goodnight."

"Night, honey."

The line went dead a few seconds after. C.C. sighed and ran her hands through her short blonde curls, bracing herself for the call she was about to make. She took her hand to the phone, and carefully dialled the number she knew by heart.

"Sheffield residence," a familiar, dry, British voice answered.

C.C. released a breath she didn't realise she had been holding before clearing her throat. "Hello, Niles, it's C.C."

There was a silence between the two people for the fraction of a minute, and C.C. could hear his increasingly ragged breathing from the other side of the line. Niles was indeed shocked, he hadn't expected her to call, much less to talk to her after the way they had parted…

"Hello, Miss Babcock. I take you've arrived safely to your destination," he spoke in an even voice, almost successfully masking the slight tremble in it.

"I have, Niles. Can I speak with Maxwell?" she cut the conversation short. She was not ready to talk to Niles, and the awkwardness between them was almost palpable. There was an elephant in the room, and they both knew it, but given their history they'd probably never talk about what happened last night at her penthouse.

"Of course. Wait a minute," Niles politely responded, masking the disappointment in his voice. The butler marched to the office and knocked the door. He observed his tired boss raising his eyes from a pile of paperwork before he gestured for him to come in. "Forgive me for interrupting your evening sir, but Miss Babcock's on the phone for you."

Maxwell leaped from his chair, and practically snatched the phone from Niles' hand. C.C. had called? Why? "Hello, C.C.?"

"Good evening Maxwell, I was calling because my father told me you asked if I had arrived safely to my destination," she said, trying to keep her tone even.

The British producer's brows knitted in a furrow. He had never called Stewart, what was she saying? "I beg your pardon C.C.?"

"My father told me you asked Niles to call him to ensure I had arrived safely to my destination," she repeated.

"Uh… sure… I definitely did that…" He stammered, glancing at his butler suspiciously. "And I'm glad to hear you are already there. You haven't changed your mind about keeping your location a secret, haven't you?"

"I am sorry, but no. Is there anything else you want to ask?"

"Are you feeling better there?"

C.C. couldn't help but to smile at the question, he really was trying his best to be respectful and supportive. Perhaps she had been wrong all these years, Maxwell did pay attention to her, Maxwell did care, only he cared for her as a friend, not as a love interest. Granted, it wasn't the type of attention she had been looking for, but it was definitely better than being invisible. Someone cared, and it was wonderful…

"I guess I am, Max."

"I am happy to hear so. Thank you for calling back, and feel free to do it anytime you want! Fran told me to send you her love and so did the kids."

"Tell them I said hi. Well, Maxwell, it's getting late here and I should go to bed. I have a busy day tomorrow, and after an eleven hours long flight I really need to sleep."

"Of course C.C., I understand."

"Goodbye, Sheffield. Again, thank you for your concern."

"Goodnight, C.C.. Hope you have a wonderful time tomorrow."

"Thanks," there was a moment of hesitation, and both friends remained silent. It seemed both were waiting for her to say something, and she knew what it was. She was debating herself if she should say it, but the more she thought about it, the more doubts she had. Taking a deep breath, she decided to push her fears aside, " and send my love to Niles," she spoke quickly, not even stopping to breath in between her words. She'd have time to analyse what she had said later.

Maxwell remained in stunned silence for some seconds, and his eyes instinctively travelled to the man standing in front of him. His butler hadn't left the room after he had handed him the phone, and even if he was pretending to dust, Maxwell knew it was one of his poorly concealed attempts to eavesdrop. The edges of his mouth curved into a small smile as he began to grasp the reasons behind Niles' deflated attitude: he cared for her, but he wouldn't allow himself to show it due to the nature of his relationship with C.C.. She cared too, and was just as scared as him… "Sure C.C., I'll tell him. Goodnight, partner."

The line was already dead when he answered her request, so he hung the phone while shaking his head. Maxwell looked up at his friend and handed him back the phone; his butler seemed to be unfocused, as though his mind was far away from there and -knowing him- it probably was.

"C.C. sent you her love," the producer informed his friend, and watched with amusement how Niles' eyes twinkled. He composed himself almost immediately, and concealed the once obvious happiness behind his usual unimpressed façade.

"Babcock sending love? Well that's certainly a shocker, her kind are usually not able to experience what we know as emotions."

Maxwell chuckled, and reclined back in his seat. He may be able to mask his true colours behind an impassive look, but he couldn't hide the hint of happiness in his normally dry voice. "I can't believe it, the woman isn't even in the country and you insist in zinging her!"

"I am sure her ears are burning now," his friend retorted, heading for the office door. "If that's all sir, I'll retire for tonight. Good evening, sir."

Silence enveloped the study once again, but Maxwell didn't go back to his paperwork, instead his mind went over his late conversation with C.C.. She certainly sounded happier, and she'd been brave enough to call the mansion after… wait...

Maxwell clasped his hands together, his grin widening. Although he cared deeply for C.C., he had decided to give her time before attempting to contact her, but it seemed his butler couldn't wait to hear from her. He had never ordered Niles to call Stewart, as C.C. had said, so this could only mean Niles had done so and concealed his interest by blaming the call on him.

"When are you going to accept that you need her, old man?" Maxwell thought aloud before leaving the office.

Had the producer been looking at his butler at the moment, he'd have realised he didn't just need her -he loved her, for he was getting under the covers, with one of C.C.'s scarfs pressed against his nose. He had stolen it when he had helped her pack, so every night before he went to sleep he could breathe in her scent and imagine she was still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hello there! If anyone wants to see the hotel I've described, here's the link to their site: www. alvearpalace. com
> 
> Anyway, I hope you are enjoying the story, and I'd love some reviews! Thanks for reading :)


	5. You'll Think Of Me

**_ Chapter 5 _ **

**_ You'll think of me _ **

' _Requiescat in pace'_ were the words that read on the top of the tall neo-classical entrance to Recoleta cemetery. The place had an eerie yet bewitching aura, not to mention its more than interesting story; It was the first public cemetery in Buenos Aires, and it had been built over a hundred years ago – in 1822, to be precise. Many notable citizens from the Argentinean Social and Political Elite were buried there, and as such, the cemetery was decorated with expensive statues and mausoleums, many of them having been designed by notable Argentinean sculptors, such as Lola Mora or Luis Perlotti.

The blonde producer hadn't been particularly interested in the place, and she had decided to pay it a visit only because her father had suggested it; the moment she started the tour, however, she became absolutely marvelled by the bizarre cemetery. She got away from her group shortly after the guide had started her exposition – C.C. wasn't in the mood for hearing incessant blabbering coming from an overly-enthusiastic tour guide, nor for being around a bunch of eager tourists who took a picture of every insignificant trifle they came across with.

She had been in Argentina for a week now, and she was absolutely in love with the city. It had a certain _' je ne sais quoi_ ', and by the architecture she could tell it had a strong European heritage. She had read on a brochure it had once been called the " _Paris of South America_ ", and although the country was not a rich one anymore, some of the old day grandeur remained – like a faint echo, resounding through the city. She had soon discovered – to her absolute delight – that the city had a busy theatre industry, and she had already seen one or two shows. As a matter of fact, she had been most impressed by the magnificence of 'Teatro Colón', an internationally rated opera house where she had seen a ballet.

The blonde had planned to visit the cemetery the following day of her arrival, but unluckily it had been raining, so she had decided to enjoy her day at the hotel spa. Speaking of the day at the spa, she had had the most curious of experiences there, and in the hydro-massage circuit, when something had been dropped on her head….

" _What the hell?!" the blonde woman screamed, immediately turning around to find out who had dropped a sandal on her head. "What were you-" for a second, C.C. was on the verge of screaming, for in front of her stood a man that could easily be mistaken by Niles' twin. The only noticeable difference between the two men was the hair – the stranger had hazel hair, which was slightly darker and a little bit longer than Niles'._

" _I am so sorry!" the man spoke with a strong Scottish accent, "I wasn't paying attention while taking off my sandals, and I accidentally dropped one on you. Are you alright?"_

_C.C. had to force herself out of her stunned state, and clumsily nodded at the man, who was now lowering himself inside the hydro-massage circuit, too. "Yes- I… I'm fine," the blonde stuttered._

" _Oh, I am happy to hear so," he retorted, flashing a lopsided grin at her (What the hell?! Was this some twisted joke from the universe?! Really?!) "I am Patrick, by the way. Nice to meet you," he offered her his hand, which she took and engaged in a good natured shake._

" _I'm… Claire," it wasn't a lie, she thought, but now that she had fled from her old life, she'd rather be addressed by a different name. "Nice to meet you, too."_

They had spent the afternoon talking and fooling around; just getting to know each other. Surprisingly enough – considering who Patrick bore a resemblance to – they had gotten pleasantly along. As it turned out, the man had come to visit his Argentinean family, and had recently divorced. It mesmerized C.C. just how similar he was to her former nemesis, but it was only a physical resemblance, for the man –unlike Niles – had a sweet yet, carefree nature. She had bumped into him at breakfast a few days after their first encounter, and – as they both were alone – they had decided to have their meal together. In a way, it was nice to have company, and as the man didn't exactly know her, she could be whoever or whatever she wanted. As a matter of fact, the producer had purposely omitted the fact she was a rich socialite running away from her old life; instead, she had told him she was just a woman looking for an adventure. The man had arched a questioning eyebrow at her, which had made C.C. realise just how suggestive her words had sounded.

" _I am not looking for THAT kind of adventure,"_ she had said, nudging Patrick in the side. _"Let_ me rephrase my previous statement: _I am searching for my own identity, and that's an adventure on itself."_

Patrick had remained pensive for a while, pondering over her words _. "Well, an Argentinean author called Jorge Luis Borges wrote that Life is made up of a single moment – the moment in which a man finds out, once and for all, who he is."_

And who was she? What defined her? Since her breakdown the blonde had been trying to answer that question, but her mind was never able to come up with a decent answer. She was rich, pretty, successful… yet those traits seemed to be insufficient in her opinion – she wanted to believe she wasn't just social labels, yet the former producer was unable to define herself as a person. C.C. knew she was not nice and that her demeanour was quite unpleasant and could also be considered a tad aggressive, but she wasn't a bad person either! Just like any other human being, she had her weaknesses and one of them was how easily she was influenced by the opinion of her peers. She had tried to fit into the cruel world of New York's Social Elite, and had failed miserably – she was not married, she had no children and had ended in rehab.

But why did she want to fit in? She didn't even like those people! Why did she need to impress them? If she was being honest, nothing good had come from searching for that type of approval; it had only made her miserable and resent people who were happy. Part of her knew that that was why she hated Nanny Fine. It was just that the woman was so exasperatingly happy and good natured! Fran had never fought to fit in, for people just loved for who she was… So, this brought her back to her original question: Who was she?

That's why she had chosen that day to visit the cemetery – she needed to think, and the peaceful and silent atmosphere of the gigantic cemetery offered her the perfect chance to do so. It was a sunny winter day; the breeze blew softly, relaxing her further, there wasn't a cloud in sight, and she could hear birds singing in the distance. Niles would have said she was in her element – seeing as she was the Ice Queen – and a little smirk brightened her features. As she slithered through the cemetery while observing the silent beauty of it, she allowed her mind to focus solely on Niles. She had never allowed herself to think of him before, but it was time for a change.

For years the butler had been both the bane of her existence and the highlight of it; yes, they bantered and pranked each other, but behind their childish behaviour she believed that, perhaps there were concealed feelings – many more than she was willing to admit. C.C. had tried to convince herself that she only lusted after Niles, that what she felt for him was just physical attraction, but since the kiss in the den the blonde had realised it wasn't just lust.

Their relationship had always been somewhat _flirtatious_ , yet she had pinned after Maxwell… Why? What had made her waste years in a man who clearly would never love her? Probably her upbringing had a lot to do with it, Maxwell was the stereotypical perfect husband for a rich socialite like her – but if she ignored the fact that he was handsome and rich, would she be interested in him? As much as it pained her to say so, the answer to that question was a rotund no. They were just too different: his personality was quite dull, he was thoughtless, and his British reserve unnerved her… She was a passionate woman, and required an equally passionate man by her side, and – if she was being honest – Maxwell was not that man. In hindsight, she had been obsessed with him because she had convinced herself that being with Maxwell was the only way she could be happy. Hence why she had crumbled down when he'd proposed to Fran, it was as though the nanny had taken away her only chance of being happy.

Niles, on the other hand, was just as passionate as her, and his quick wit was enough to keep her on her toes. Many nights she'd find herself smiling at the memory of one of his clever zingers, and he had never failed to cheer her up when she was having a bad day. But most importantly, the butler seemed to like her –in his own twisted way – for _who she was,_ and not for what she had or for what her surname was. No matter how much they fought or how many insults he hurled at her, she had discovered an undeniable fondness in his eyes; she had never experienced that before. Niles was the first person who had dared to speak up to her, and he had helped her begin to understand her station didn't mean she was worth more than other people – although she'd deny so even under threat of death. After all, she was still an obnoxiously proud woman.

He seemed to understand her better than anyone else, he knew her ups and downs, and he had been one of the most stable relationships in her life. That's why it had hurt when he had pranked her after his heart attack – they had been getting close, and with one simple action he had made her lose all her trust in him. C.C. was afraid of the feelings he awoke in her, for she couldn't understand them, and it was off-putting. She was a woman who had always followed logic to control her actions or take decisions, but when it came to feelings, there was not a correct or logical answer – something that made her incredibly angry. Logically, she knew that a woman of her class shouldn't even be interested in a servant, but her complicated feelings – and this was something she still was reluctant to accept – couldn't care less about his station in life. There was a part of her that considered Niles her equal, the only person who understood her bizarre sense of humour and who was an intellectual match, but the logical part of her mind wouldn't allow herself to give in to what her heart wanted.

Since the kiss in the den, however, her need to have him close had skyrocketed, and she had often found herself daydreaming about him whenever he came by the office. The highlight of her day had been their verbal sparring, and whenever they had spent time together her heart soared with happiness. The time he had escorted her to the Broadway Guild awards, C.C. had been surprised by how charming he had been, and what a charismatic man he could be. But even though they had wordlessly agreed to put their guards down and enjoy themselves, the knowledge that everything would go back to normal after the ceremony was over had saddened both of them. If they had such a good time together, why the need to pretend they didn't? Why couldn't they show the other that they cared? Both of them were cowards who didn't dare to change the rules of the game, and this was the price to pay.

Distance was helping her to see things clearly, and one of them was just how much she cared for Niles. She missed him terribly, and she constantly wondered why of all people it was him the one who she missed the most. She could no longer deceive herself, the man currently plaguing her thoughts was not just her enemy or a bizarre friend, he was so much more…. Then, the question that remained was: What exactly was Niles to her? Was he an infatuation? Or the feelings she had for him were deeper? Time would tell, she guessed.

The blonde's thoughts were momentarily interrupted by the sight of the tomb she had been looking for: Eva Peron's tomb. Unbeknownst to Maxwell, she had seen Lloyd Webber's play – _Evita_ – and she was intrigued by the legendary First Lady. Her whole story was romantic, enthralling and was like a real life fairy tale: the poor girl who married the right man and became the heroine and defender of the poor until she had a tragic end. Eva had re-invented herself, she had gotten over her past and had won her place in history; perhaps it was time for her to do the same… Her breakdown had been a turning point in her life, she had finally hit rock bottom, and now it was time for her to re-discover herself in order to rise again. Perhaps she needed to break to finally discover who she was.

* * *

A week had gone by since her departure, but to the butler it felt like it had been longer. Ever since Miss Babcock had left, he was lacking the usual mischievous twinkle in his eyes; it was as though he had no energy to function – he could only think of her, and how things had spiralled out of control. How had he allowed the woman he loved to slip through his fingers? He should have been brave enough to tell her that he wanted her to stay, he should have helped her when he saw she was falling apart. Although he knew her breakdown wasn't exactly his fault, he couldn't help but wonder if his pranks had helped to push her over the edge.

"Scarecrow? Are you there?" a nasal voice whined, interrupting his thoughts.

"Uh, yes, I am sorry Miss Fine, my mind wandered. What were you saying?" he tried to sound nonchalant, and avoided her gaze by focusing on scrubbing the already shinny kitchen counter.

Fran, however, wasn't fooled by his pretended composure, for she had realised something was off with him since Miss Babcock had left. Hence her pestering Niles about it since the blonde had left, but so far her efforts to bring out the truth from her friend had been fruitless. Fran gently placed a hand on his forearm, wordlessly asking him to stop scrubbing, which he reluctantly did. "Hey, what's wrong with you? You've been acting strange since Miss Bab-"

"I assure you the She Devil's departure has not affected me," he interrupted her, "I am glad she's gone! I've been trying to get rid of her since she first stepped a foot in this house," Niles blustered, still refusing to look at the soon-to-be Mrs. Sheffield. In truth, it hurt to say those words, it hurt so much… but he wasn't going to allow his sadness to taint his friend's upcoming wedding. This was a time for celebration, and he couldn't… wouldn't allow himself to break down. He had a façade to keep up; he had been able to keep it in place for over ten years, and now it wouldn't be any different.

The former nanny shook her head in frustration. She could see right through him; ever since Miss Babcock had gone away to the sanatorium he was not the same, and now that she had gone away for an undetermined period of time, he had become a mere shadow of the man he had once been. He had stopped eavesdropping, was eerily quiet most of the time, and his smile was a rare sight – actually, Fran was sure he hadn't smiled truthfully since Miss Babcock's departure, for she had only seen forced smiles coming from him. The brunette loved meddling in people's lives, and normally she had no problem on doing so, but this was different – this was Niles…

"Oy, don't get so defensive, I was only trying to help!" she chided, gently slapping his back.

"I'm… I'm sorry Miss Fine, I've been feeling under the weather today and I am tired," he excused himself, and resumed scrubbing the counter.

"That was a poor excuse, Scarecrow. Why can't you just accept that you miss her?"

"That is preposterous, Miss Fine!" he hissed, walking away from his friend.

"Niles, please, don't hide things from me, let me try to help!" Fran retorted, following him around the kitchen. He wouldn't allow her to see his face, and she could see just how tense he was by his body language; it was the one of a man who was being pushed to the limits of his endurance. "Come on Scarecrow, this is no time to-"

"Miss Fine, stop. I can't… I don't want to speak about my feelings with you, much less when you should be worrying about your wedding and not about me."

"To hell with the wedding, Niles! You can't expect me to-"

"Miss Fine, stop!" the butler bellowed, slamming a fist against the kitchen counter. His outburst successfully silenced a now slack -jawed nanny, and he took a calming breath before resuming the conversation. "Miss Fine, please, this is not the time to talk about this. Can you please forget about the issue for now?"

It wasn't just a question, it was a plea – a desperate plea – and for the first time in her life, Fran Fine decided to shut up. She understood it wasn't a matter of lack of trust in her; it was just that he couldn't bring himself to talk about missing Miss Babcock with anyone. In a certain way, his whole world had crumbled down, and he had to get used to the idea of C.C. being gone. Fran pitied him and had an almost frantic urge to try to help him, but the right thing to do now right then was just offering him her silent support.

"Alright Scarecrow," Fran sighed, finally conceding defeat ."But I'm always here if you need someone to talk to."

Niles released a long sigh, and finally turned to his friend, who had her arms open. He walked to the former nanny and allowed her to hold him, if only for a little while. "Thank you, Miss Fine," he pulled away from her and straightened his tie. He needed to get out of there, for he could feel the familiar heat behind his eyes that signalled oncoming tears. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some errands to attend to. I'll be back in some hours."

Fran nodded at him, and observed him breeze out of the house through the back door.

When Niles knew he was out of Fran's sight, he allowed the tears to fall down. It wasn't the first time the thought of Miss Babcock had made him cry, but he had never felt so desolated before. He walked aimlessly for almost an hour, until he noticed the outline of C.C.'s old building. He thought about continuing his walk, but at the last moment he changed his mind, turned on his heels, and shuffled towards it. Once inside, he greeted the doorman and rode the elevator to the 25th floor. He had been to Babcock's penthouse once before, and if his memory served him right, there should be a spare key underneath the doormat. He had gotten this information once when he had taken a really drunk C.C. home. It was the time when he had escorted Miss Babcock to the Broadway Guild Awards; after they had grown bored of dancing they had shared a nightcap at the mansion, but C.C. – as she usually did – had gone overboard with her ingest of alcohol. He had briefly thought about calling her a cab, but in the end the gentlemanly part in him had won the day and he took her home. C.C. had been pretty much unconscious by the time they got to her door, so Niles had taken her inside the penthouse, put her into bed and then, after planting a sweet kiss on her forehead, he had gone back to the mansion.

They had never talked about that night again, just as they hadn't mentioned their alcohol fuelled kiss, but what had been different this time, was that – when Miss Babcock had arrived to the mansion the following morning – she had thanked him for the evening. Niles knew he meant more than their date, but being who they were, they chose not to say it explicitly.

Just as he had expected, he found the little silver key tucked under the posh doormat that lay before her doorstep. He supposed that she had forgotten to store the key when she had gone away. Not that he would complain, really. Niles put the key into the lock and turned it until he heard the clunking noise that signalled the door was open; he hesitated for a second, was he really going to do it? Why was he there? What did he expect to find in that penthouse? He couldn't really give an answer to all of his questions, but when he finally turned the doorknob he answered the first one.

Although her penthouse had been empty for only a week, it appeared as though it had been unoccupied for years. The drapes were closed, there wasn't an ornament in sight, and there were a few sealed boxes scattered across the room. A thin layer of dust covered almost every surface, and there was a musty smell of a place long shut away. As he ventured into the different rooms of her penthouse, his heart sunk: the deserted apartment was a strong proof that she didn't intend to come back any time soon; her bed was unmade, and the few clothes she had left behind were piled on it. What he presumed it had once been her study was full of boxes with infinity of contracts and scripts inside them, the picture frames were now empty and the majority of her books were gone from the bookshelves.

It felt like a slap in the face, and for the first time since Miss Babcock had left, he allowed himself to give in to his sadness. Niles cried his eyes out, his faint sobs echoing through the empty penthouse – she was really gone, and how she missed her! It felt good to cry, though, he had forced himself to remain composed for far too long, and now –in the privacy of her deserted apartment – he was finally able to grieve.

Slowly, his crying became quiet sobs, and then slowed into more normal breathing. The heavy feeling in his heart was still there, but he now felt as if he could breathe. The butler slowly headed to the kitchen, looked for a feather duster, some cleaning supplies and then proceeded to clean her apartment. He wasn't exactly sure why he had the urge to do it, but in a way, keeping her apartment tidy – as though she'd get home in any moment – made her departure a little less painful, a little less real...

Once he was done with both the kitchen and the living room, he followed with her study and then with her bedroom. The butler tidied the bed, put her clothes away and opened the drapes, allowing the sun to stream into the room, warming the otherwise chilly room. He stood in front of the window for a long time, observing the magnificence of New York while he wondered where she was now, and what she could possibly be doing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Well, here's another chapter! I hope you like it :)


	6. Getting Closer

  
Chapter 6: Getting Closer  
  


"I am not eating that, Patrick!" C.C. deadpanned while staring at the strange aliment the waitress had placed in front of her in disgust. It was some kind of hearty, thick, yellowish stew (which, in her opinion, had a certain resemblance to barf) and the consistency in itself was enough to unsettle her. "There is no way I'm putting that in my mouth," the blonde declared, pushing her casserole away.

"Come on, Claire! It's delicious! My mother used to cook locro all the time." Patrick shook his head while he took a spoonful of Locro to his mouth. "Besides, up to now you've loved all the Argentinean dishes I've made you taste."

"This is different, none of the things I tried before looked so... so… disgusting as this stew!" the producer huffed.

"You said the same thing about alfajores, and now you can't stop eating them," he retorted, pushing her Locro back to C.C. "Don't be stubborn, trust me, you are going to love it!"

"Fine! Fine. I'm only doing it for you to stop pestering me," C.C. reluctantly submerged her spoon inside the steaming aliment, and then proceeded to take it to her mouth. Although she had to admit it had quite an enticing aroma, C.C. had to slam her eyes shut before tasting it - the moment she finally did it, however, her taste buds experienced an explosion of flavour. It was delicious! Despite its revolting appearance, locro was proving to be one if the best dishes she had ever tasted. And Patrick realised this, for he was flashing a mocking grin in her direction.

"Not a word, Patrick, or I'll bite your head off," she warned him, ingesting yet another spoonful of locro.

"Wasn't planning on saying anything, the knowledge I was right is enough."

C.C. rolled her eyes skyward, she hated being wrong, and him rubbing it in her face wasn't funny either. The pair fell into a comfortable silence as they ate, occasionally breaking it when either of them asked for another serving or drink.

During the last three weeks the former producer had been spending a lot of time with Patrick. As he was part Argentinean, he knew the city and had taken her to the most wonderful places -such as Buenos Aires Metropolitan Cathedral, The Cabildo, Buenos Aires botanical garden, among many others. One of those memorable places was the "Galileo Galilei Planetarium." – They had gone early in the morning, and actually had a picnic on the premises. The planetarium was located in the middle of a large park in Palermo neighbourhood, which was another attraction on itself. There were three artificial lakes within the park and a beautiful rose garden; they had chosen to sit by the main lake while they munched on medialunas (the Argentinean version of croissants) and drank tea. In the distance they had heard the whooshing sound of traffic, it had been rhythmic, almost lulling… The day had been beautiful, the sun had shone, there had been some lone clouds scattered through the sky, and the temperature had increased, so much so they had only wore thin coats over their clothes. To the unknowing eye, it would have appeared they were a couple, but the blonde's thoughts had been centred on another man.

_"What's troubling you?" Patrick asked, helping himself to another medialuna._

_His question brought her out of her reverie, and she just shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing is troubling me… My mind just wandered."_

_"If something isn't troubling you, then it must be someone," Patrick insisted, taking the liberty to drape an arm around her shoulders. She accepted the contact, and leaned against his side._

_"How did you know?" she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper._

_"Are you kidding? It's written all over your face! Your eyes were unfocused, you were chewing on your lower lip and you've barely touched your breakfast."_

_A line appeared between C.C.'s brows as he spoke, was she really that easy to read? Or was this man just observant? The only person who was able to read her like a book was Niles and, in some way, showing what she felt made her feel vulnerable. Her harsh façade had always been a defence mechanism, for underneath it hid an insecure woman. The former producer had learnt to hide her emotions since childhood, and the few times she had allowed herself to open up had ended up in disappointment. Even with Niles, the only time she had showed him that she cared, she had been hurt…_

_"Am I that easy to read?" she said, looking up at him._

_Patrick remained silent for a few seconds, taking his time to analyse her question before formulating a response. It was something he did a lot -stopping to think before he spoke- hence his usually wonderful and insightful responses. "No, not really," he started, shaking his head lightly, "But there are moments when you give away what's going on in your mind."_

_C.C. arched a questioning eyebrow at the man, not quite understanding his statement. "What do you mean?"_

_"It's hard to explain, but it's like there are some specific moments, whenever you are distracted or deep in thought, when you drop your defences and I can see what's going on inside you. They are rare moments, and I suspect that's because you are usually fighting to keep everyone out. I wonder what happened in your life for you to feel the need to push everyone away."_

_Well, he had summarised in a few words what Bort had been trying to tell her the past fifteen years. She had never thought about it in that way… Pushing everyone away was part of who she was, she had learnt to conceal her true self from the judgemental world, and most of her relationships hadn't prospered due to her reluctance to trust her partners. It seemed Nanny Fine had been right all those years ago, she had to stop pushing people away in order to be happy. Now, this new information brought a both alarming and interesting thought to her mind: Patrick had said he could only read her whenever she was distracted, while Niles could read her whenever he wanted… Perhaps, just perhaps, the butler was the only person she had unconsciously decided to let in. How bizarre, she thought, the man who had made her life a living hell was also the one who she trusted the most._

_"I've never thought about it… And to answer your first question, yes there is someone –well, I wouldn't say he is troubling me, it's more like he's confusing me. I've known this man for almost twenty years, and we kind of bonded through zingers and pranks. We've never been kind to one another, but I care for him, I care for him quite a lot, and I suspect he cares for me too," her words trailed off as the memory of Niles standing on her door the day she left crept to her mind. His eyes had shown such a deep sadness, yet his words hadn't._

_"Ah, so you are running away from him, aren't you?"_

_C.C. had almost answered no, but it wouldn't be fair, in some point he was right. In a way she had ran away from Niles too, because her feelings for the butler confused her to no end. Granted, she had ran away from many other things too: Maxwell, Nanny Fine, the wedding, alcoholism… But she couldn't deny her relationship with Niles was one of the main issues she needed to sort out. "Yeah, you could say so… But that's not the only thing I am running away from."_

_"Well, sometimes we need to get lost to be found," he sentenced, handing her another medialuna._

That morning at the planetarium she had understood a lot about herself. C.C. was grateful for having met Patrick, both for his fantastic advice and also because in some way it was like a part of Niles was there with her. Unluckily, he was going back to Britain in two days' time, so they had decided to make each day count. Today it was 9th of July, Argentina's Independence Day, and the hotel was hosting a grand gala that night, so Patrick had asked her out. C.C. had accepted his invitation more than happily, she missed going to parties, and she was certain the night would be more than pleasurable.

"Have you heard? Tonight, at the party, there's going to be a tango show! You'll finally be able to show me your dance moves," Patrick broke the silence that hanged between them.

C.C.'s mouth curved into a smile. She had been wanting to dance tango since her arrival to Buenos Aires, but she had never had the chance. "That's amazing! And I assure you my moves will leave you gaping."

"We'll see about that. At what time do you want me to pick you up?"

The former producer snorted, and threw a mocking smirk in his direction, "Patrick, we are in the same hotel, you don't need to 'pick me up'. We'll just meet at the hotel lobby around 9 o' clock."

The Scottish man rose his hands in mock defeat, and flashed a boyish grin at her (Jesus Christ, whenever he did that it was like having Niles in front of her…) "Alright, I was just trying to be a gentleman. It's settled then, 9 o' clock at the lobby. Now, what do you think about finishing our meal so we can continue touring the city? Today I want to take you to Olivos, my mother's childhood neighbourhood."

"Sounds like we have a plan for the day. Let me just order the check so we-"

"Oh no, I'll pay this time," he interrupted her. Seeing she was about to protest, he rose a silencing hand and smiled gently at her "Please, just this one time?"

C.C. hesitated before smiling back, "Alright, I'll humour you this one time."

* * *

 

"Niles, is everything ready for tonight?" Maxwell's voice asked from the intercom.

"Yes sir, I only need to finish preparing the dessert. Your tux is in your room, the waiters you hired will arrive in about two hours and I've already finished preparing dinner," Niles responded, momentarily stopping kneading the dough.

"Excellent, old man."

Tonight was the first backers' party without C.C., and Maxwell was nervous. His former business associate had always charmed their backers with her characteristic sincere insincerity, something he wasn't good at… He remembered the brief time C.C. had quit when he had refused to give her a full partnership, and backers had been a royal pain in the ass. Of course he had Fran by his side now, and he was sure his wife-to-be would help him through the party, but part of him wished C.C. was there with him too.

Niles had been working tirelessly to ensure the party's success, and he was more than pleased with his outstanding work. However, part of him knew he was working extra hard so as to keep him distracted, it was a way for him to stop thinking about his former nemesis.

He was trying to go on, but he just couldn't... without her life was dull, pointless, boring… Her absence was almost unbearable, and not because he needed to hurl insults at her, but because he needed to see her. He needed to hear her usual 'Hello Hello' , he needed to breathe in the aroma of Chanel number five mixed with her shampoo, he needed their banter, he needed to hear her sultry laugh… In short, he needed her.

He couldn't believe it only had been a month since her departure, for it had felt longer. She was constantly in his mind, and no matter how many times he cleaned her penthouse, or distracted himself with shores, the pain was always there. He felt as if he had aged ten years, and happiness had eluded him ever since she had left; he was just existing, and he couldn't stop reproaching himself for allowing her to go away. The only thing that made him almost happy was calling Stewart Babcock – of course he always said he was calling on Maxwell's behalf, but truth was he just wanted to know how she was doing without blowing his cover. Her father never spoke much, but he had told him she was enjoying herself while she toured a wonderful city. He couldn't help but to chuckle at the thought of C.C. dressed in casual clothes and with a camera hanging from her neck as she toured a city; the image was so unlike the producer, yet it was strangely endearing.

Was she ever going to come back? And in the case she didn't, what would he do? But it wasn't time to think about that, he chastised himself, it was time to prepare a party, and for now he'd focus on that. Once the dough was properly kneaded, he lowered the rolling pin and then proceeded to fragment the dough before putting it in the oven. He had an hour and a half until dessert was ready, so he decided to relax in the meantime, after all his favourite soap was about to start! The tired butler walked briskly into the living room, anxious to take a deserved break, but before he could take a seat on the couch, there was a loud bang at the door. He turned on his heels and lumbered across the living room while tiding his tie – something he stopped doing as soon as he realised it was just the mailman.

"Good morning, Niles!" the mailman chimed, shaking the butler's hand.

"Morning Charlie, what have you brought for Mr. Sheffield today?"

"Actually this time I came to deliver something to you," Charlie retorted, taking a big envelope from his satchel, which Niles practically snatched from his hands. The butler's brows knitted in a confused frown, it had been ages since he had received a letter, from who could it be?

"I need you to sign here and I'll be gone." Charlie interrupted his scrutiny of the package, and handed him a pen. Niles scribbled his name before muttering a goodbye to the mailman and closing the door.

When he actually saw who had sent the letter, his heart skipped a beat – there, written in her neat calligraphy read:

**_To: Butler boy_ **

**_From: The Ice Queen_ **

Niles felt his knees weakening, and by now his heart was galloping against his chest. C.C. had sent him a letter?! After almost a month of silence she had taken the time to send him a letter? It's a world gone mad! Not wanting to disclose the contents of the package where the prying eyes of his family could easily find him, he turned to the stairs and dashed to his room. He was beaming, not only she hadn't forgotten him, but she had also taken the time to send a special package just for him.

Once in his room he sat on the bed, and opened the envelope with trembling hands. Inside the package there were what appeared to be pictures, a letter, and some type of candy. He grasped her note while he put on his reading glasses, his smile growing wider by the second.

_Butler boy,_

_Long-time no see, huh? I've decided to send you and the family some pictures, and I've also added an 'Alfajor', which is a typical candy from Argentina (Yes, I am in Argentina, and no, I'm not specifying the city. This is as far as you are going to know for now.). Hope you enjoy them._

_Love,_

_C.C._

That brief note was enough to light his day, not to mention just how much he appreciated to know at least to what country she had travelled to. Although the letter was certainly more than welcomed, he couldn't help but to think about how strange it was for her to send a letter to him. It was as though she was trying to show some kind of change in her relationship with him, as though she wanted him to know she cared. Perhaps, to everyone else, receiving a letter was not a big deal, but for him it was… What were her motives behind it? What had pushed her to do so? There were so many questions swimming in his mind, and there weren't any answers. Well, he'd have to settle with that for now, perhaps, in the near future, she'd even call, and if she called he was determined to make her know he missed her.

As he riffled through the pictures, he felt his heart soaring with happiness. She looked positively radiant! And by the sincere smile on her face he could tell she was having a good time. He stopped on one picture in particular, and slowly stroked it with his thumb – It showed a beaming C.C. sitting on a blanket, with what he recognised as an alfajor in her hand. Behind her he could see an extensive lake, which seemed to shine thanks to the reflection of the sun over its surface. The former producer had changed too, her hair was longer, and her eyes had regained their characteristic fire; something that also caught his attention was her attire: she was wearing stylish yet casual clothes, and the tight jeans she was wearing accentuated her long legs.

The next picture he observed carefully, showed C.C. sitting on a park bench, with her head turned to what seemed to be street performers. She was clearly trying to stifle a laugh, he could tell it by the way she was biting his lower lip while one of the edges of her mouth was slightly curved upwards.

Another photo showed her in an elegant dress, standing in the middle of what seemed to be an opera house. He recognised that dress, it was the same one she had used the night he had escorted her to the guild awards.

By the time he had finished looking at the numerous photos, he felt a warmth spreading through his chest. Not everything was lost, it was just a matter of time.

Yes, time was all they needed.

 


End file.
